Redemption
by Telemachos
Summary: I was never reckless like Sirius, or brave like James, or even smart like Remus. I was the coward. The weakling. The traitor.


**Redemption**

Summary: I was never reckless like Sirius, or brave like James, or even smart like Remus. I was the coward. The weakling. The _traitor_.

Disclaimer: The day I own Harry Potter is the day that George-Bumbling-Bush makes a political decision that isn't frowned upon by most of the world's population.

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He gazed into the restaurant, eyes dull as he watched the raindrops slap the sides of the window and roll slowly down the dirty glass, leaving a meandering pathway that another raindrop would soon disfigure. Inside the glowing room, dozens of warm and happily oblivious people were sitting on plush red chairs, smiling and laughing as though they had not a care in the world. He could almost hear the chinking of glasses and silverware and the rustle of the flawless white tablecloths through the dim roaring of thunder.

Turning his back to the window, he slipped down onto the pavement until he was sprawled like a drunk on the ground. He closed his eyes in a desperate maneuver to avoid the tears that were threatening to leak past his eyelids, only to gasp and open them wide again as a torrent of images swept into his mind.

"No," he whispered, his voice breaking. "No…"

_A handsome man with dark hair advanced upon him, a murderous expression dominating the haggard features of his face …voices echoing in his head, screams and pleading, a woman begging for mercy … "You killed them!" someone shouted, their voice drawing nearer and nearer … "Your fault…It was _your _fault!"_

The man arched his back, sweating, as he let out a short, muffled gasp. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the rain that was dripping from his mousy hair and running down the thin scrap of cloth that he called a shirt. He started to shiver violently in the cold, and, knowing that he deserved worse than this, struggled to his feet and made a dash to the overhang on the shop across the street. After all, since when did he get what he deserved?

He leaned against the door, wheezing, and lifted his gaze to the sign that was posted across from him on a post. He almost dropped to the ground in a faint when he saw what was on it…

——By order of——

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

The man stared at the sign in horror, his mouth twisting in an odd mixture of terror and grief. He turned his head, seeming not to notice that tears were spilling down his cheeks and making them splotchier than ever. Images, once again, threatened to overturn his level of reason and lead him into unconsciousness.

_"Hey Wormtail! Come here and help me get Prongs into his Muggle contraption!" A man, dark-haired and almost inhumanly handsome, beckoned him over, grinning wildly. It was the self-same man that had been pointing an accusatory finger at him only minutes before, only now, his behavior was completely different… completely trusting. "Prongs here has got the pre-wedding nerves, I've got _just_ the way to fix it…" He sent him a wicked, one-sided grin and took his wand out of his pocket, twisting it in a complex maneuver and whispering _"Avis Retenarda!"_ to point at a messy-haired man that was pacing and muttering to himself. _

_Birds erupted from the tip of the man's wand and flocked around the man with messy hair, chirping and tugging at his black locks. The man stopped pacing and looked up at them, confused, as they started to pull at his clothes, yanking and pulling them into disarray. "What the--" the man yelled, looking around for his wand as one of the birds almost strangled him by wrapping his tie around his neck. He whirled around scowled on the familiar sight of the dark-haired man curled on the ground laughing while the other stood to the side, wondering whether to laugh or point an accusing finger. "Sirius, on my _wedding _day, of all times..." the man's voice faded into darkness._

He had never been reckless like Sirius, or brave like James, or even smart like Remus. He was the coward. The weakling. The _traitor_. He knew, in his heart, that none of them would have chose the path that he did. None of them would have forsaken the others, but _he _did.

Even back in school they were better than him. He never had any girlfriends; he was always just below average on the testing; and the only reason he was popular was because they were friends with him. He never really understood why they put up with him--after all, what did he have to offer? Even when they first turned into Animagi they had to help him, do all the work for him until all he had to do was say a short spell. He was the hole in the ship; the wet match.

He shivered slightly and looked up at the black sky. The muddy pits that he called irises gazed unseeingly at the midnight depths as he recalled the day that he first went on to the Dark side. It had all happened so fast...Voldemort coming to his house over the summer before seventh year, killing his sister and offering him a ... a spot ...

Even now, Sirius' words from that night came back to haunt him.

_"I would have died. I would have _died _for my friends..."_

And it was true. Sirius _would_ have died. James and Remus would have, too. It was only _him _that would have ever even considered betraying his friends and even allowing them to be killed.

He sniffed loudly, not unlike the sound a small child would have made, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. He tried to remember a day, a day when he had been happy...but as his brain swept through the images, all he could see was three consecutive faces, glowing in his mind like beacons of hot, burning oil. He desperately pawed through the clouded scenes, looking for something, _something_, that didn't have to do with the people to whom he had caused the most pain in the world.

_The Great Hall seemed huge to him as he stepped through the door, gazing about, open-mouthed, at all the unfamiliar objects. There were floating candles and ghosts, but all thoughts of those faded from his mind as he caught sight of the ceiling, where lighting and black clouds were lashing at each other in an odd mix of grace and fury that lit up the students below._

_The professor that had greeted them when they first got in from the lake stepped up in front of the whole school with a hat and a short stool. The hat, to his amazement, came to life and sang a short song that explained all about the four tables (where each House sat), and, when it was finished, the professor with the tight bun started calling out names. When it finally got to him, he walked forward, his knees shaking, and sat on the three-foot-stool that came all the way to his chest. He put the hat on, fearfully, and waited for...something._

_"Hmmm..." a voice muttered in his ear, and he looked around wildly until he realized that it was the hat speaking. "Not a great amount of acedemic ability; not particularly strong-willed or loyal, either...but you've got a great sense of right and wrong, and there will times when you'll show _outstanding _bravery! So...I'd better make it...GRYFFINDOR!!"_

That day had been the proudest one of his life. He had been judged and deemed equal to the likes of James Potter and Albus Dumbledore, and no one had doubted him. And yet...he hadn't lived up to his expectations. He couldn't remember a time when he had been brave or even made the better choice between "right and wrong", as the hat had said he would.

He was a lost case.

Sinking back again, he was swept up into anxious dreams of treachery and hate and cowardliness._ There would never be hope...There would never be hope... _The words echoed over and over in his head, leaving him shaking and pleading with invisible nightmares. Eventually, he would have to get up. Eventually, he would have to leave this "haven" and go find the Dark Lord. Eventually, there would be no hope at all for redemption.

He shivered again and curled into a smaller ball. After all, there were minutes, still, until "eventually" came to pass, and he wanted to make those minutes last.

Even though he didn't deserve it.

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Sorry about that disclaimer at the beginning…the story was so depressing I just couldn't resist throwing a little political jab out there! I'm a citizen, though, so I technically have a right to feel that way. And, by the way, the ministry notice and Sirius' lines were j.k.r.'s too.

ANYway, review…please! You don't even KNOW how happy it makes me feel when I get reviews! And while you're at it check out my other stories too!!


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